Six Thousand Years in a Room
by Sakiku
Summary: 3rd in 6000series, follows 'On a Plane'. General insanity in HellsingMansion. Crossover Hellsing Highlander


**Disclaimer:**see 1st story in series.

**Summary:**3rd in the '6000 Years' storyarc, follows '6000 years on a plane'. Daily life at Hellsing mansion. Hellsing/HL-Crossover

* * *

**Six Thousand Years in a Room**

Like intangible mist, Alucard kept floating behind Hellsing's latest trump card, taking care to always stay just out of sight. He could hear the swordsman's heartbeat accelerate, the slight growl in his throat, and the grinding sound of blunt teeth gnashing together. He could see his stiff back, and he could feel the angry flavor to his Quickening. Cackling madly, Alucard heard his own voice echo hollowly through the swordsman's high room, distorted even further by his incorporeal vocal chords.

It was amusing to watch how the swordsman ironly resisted the urge to turn around – not that it would have done him much good. For one thing, Alucard was invisible, and for the other, he was much faster than the swordsman could ever be.

Ever since the swordsman had come into Hellsing's employment five years ago, Alucard had taken diabolical glee in trying to coax interesting reactions out of him. And, after a brief warming-up period, the swordsman had never failed to deliver so far.

In the beginning, the swordsman had tightly kept to himself, rarely reacting to Alucard's presence with more than polite tension and calculation, always hiding his true feelings. In that aspect, the swordsman hadn't been too different from the regular soldiers who were very wary of anything undead, Hellsing or not. But the swordsman had never displayed any fear. And other aspects, like his raised eyebrow when faced with a multi-eyed hell-hound that was dribbling black shadows, had even shown quite a bit of promise.

To Alucard's amusement, the swordsman had lost much of his shyness after his first mission debriefing with Lady Hellsing. It had turned out that he hadn't been wary of the vampires, but of the chance of being dismissed from his Immortal safe-haven. After seeing how Lady Hellsing didn't have a problem with shooting Alucard, the swordsman had shaken his head. Ever since, much of the tension had been released, and the swordsman had revealed a tasteful array of sarcastic comments, fearless irony, and over-all impeccable understanding of vampiric nature.

About two years after the discovery of Immortals, one year into Hellsing's newest trump card's employment, basic human rights had been established for them. With the law now backing them, a few daring Immortals had chosen to walk into public spotlight, trying to satisfy curiosity and quell most of the outlandish rumors surrounding Immortality. For example that a Quickening could be used to power a whole city for three months. Or that they had to eat ten new-born babies a year to retain their youthfulness.

The swordsman hadn't shown it, but the first time the names of those Immortal ambassadors had been announced, his heart had skipped a beat, and then proceeded to pound in relief. But later, when asked, he had denied that he knew any of those Immortals. He had only commented that all of them had an excellent reputation amongst Immortals, and that they were a lot more daring than good for survival. After all, there were still more than enough Anti-Immortal-groups around, and although experimentation on Immortals had been forbidden, it couldn't effectively be stopped.

One day, when Alucard had finally managed to make the swordsman loose his calm by reading him a 10-page essay with each and every ludicrous rumor, the swordsman foolishly had shouted back that if Immortals had that much stamina in bed, the legends about vampiric sex prowess would have to at least contain a grain of truth.

Of course, Alucard had immediately offered to provide active counter-evidence to those rumors, but the swordsman had rapidly declined. Apparently, he was not averse to having men in his bed, or even a little bloodplay, but he drew the line at the undead, demonic variety. When Alucard subsequently had fetched the Police Girl as a female alternative, it had resulted in a spluttering Adams, and an astonishingly red Draculina, without any counter-experiments conducted.

In the end, Alucard had managed to extort a day's worth of feeding directly from the swordsman's neck, and had not let him forget the incident ever since.

Afterwards, the swordsman had lost even more of his inhibitions when faced with Alucard, resorting to physical violence as a method of getting rid of him. It was even more fun to rile the swordsman up than it was with Integra. His reactions were so nicely varied.

Alucard had received stab wounds, Quickening burns, survived decapitation attempts (the only reason the attempts hadn't succeeded was that he had merely picked up his head again and placed it back on his neck), holy water in his medical blood, mercury bullets to his heart, blessed daggers between his eyes, and, one of the most interesting ones so far, a face full of pepper spray. That had been the day he had learned that pepper was itchy, and that despite being undead, inhaled pepper led to coughing fits unless one stopped breathing. A weak later, he had still occasionally hacked up some.

Of course afterwards, he had started hounding and harassing the swordsman even more relentlessly.

But he had also attained long forgotten morsels of knowledge and further pieces of the jig-saw the swordsman's identity was. Somehow, even after five years under Alucard's close scrutiny, the swordsman still managed to surprise him every time he thought he had figured the Immortal out. Like when they had animated discussions (and demonstrations) of 14th century saber techniques. Or when they fluently conversed in gutter Latin.

Or how the swordsman always seemed to accept the vampire's inhuman outlook on life (or unlife, depending on the view) and react accordingly. Apparently, centuries of existence without mortal death lurking just around the corner tended to create a very special attitude, no matter whether dead or alive. But since the swordsman still had to satisfy mortal needs, he was also forced to conform better to mortal standards, lest he stand out and be discovered. And making himself unsuspicious apparently was one of the swordsman's specialties.

It had been a stroke of luck that in that bar, where Alucard had met him for the very first time, the swordsman had been somewhat less careful than usually. Of course, part of that luck was related to the moment of surprise of facing a vampire. But the swordsman had never again been that free with information.

The swordsman kept hiding his past almost obsessively, never admitting to more than people already knew about him. He was a formidable opponent in those word games Alucard had started in order to trip him into revealing further secrets. To his continued irritation, Alucard still hadn't found out more about the swordsman's true age. From the little information he had let slip, it was reasonably certain that the swordsman had survived more than ten centuries. That would make him older than Alucard himself, and one of the oldest Immortals.

Those few Immortals who had gone public after obtaining human rights had explained that not many survived to be older than one or two centuries. There was supposed to be some kind of 'game' where they were hunting each other to gain more of their Quickening energy.

Alucard liked that idea, the concept of the Game appealing to his sentiment. According to the Immortals, those older than a millennium were less than a score. The swordsman had never agreed or denied that number, but his constant battle-readiness and unconscious habit of keeping at least three daggers, one revolver, a pepper-spray, and two stilettos close (in addition to his two swords), spoke for itself.

On missions, he was almost as effective as the Police Girl despite his inferior speed and strength. Alucard had watched more than once how the swordsman had breezed through a horde of ghouls, effortlessly decapitating them left and right with his custom-made silver-coated swords. Bullet wounds healed so rapidly that the swordsman was hardly slowed down unless hit in the head or through the heart. And even when he died, he got back up less than twenty minutes later unless he was hurt too badly or forced to stay dead.

According to the Immortals, healing and recovery from death largely depended on age and Quickening: the older and more powerful, the faster. Alucard's own forays had shown that the next quickest healer, an approximately 400 year old mercenary, took 38 minutes to revive again from a simple blade through the heart. The swordsman could recover from more serious injuries in less than half the time.

And then, after a glorious battle where a FREAK had managed to sneak in a quick bite at the swordsman's neck (and, in the process, get fried when Quickening-filled arterial blood was spraying everywhere), a flash of inspiration had struck him: The swordsman did not stay dead for long after being drained, and he didn't turn into a vampire afterwards. In Alucard's book, that meant that the swordsman was a prime opportunity to get practice material for the Police Girl.

To his disgust, she had kept refusing to drink from humans because, as she loved to exclaim in horror, 'They could die!'. She had been adamant that she didn't want to kill mortals, and that since she had never fed from a live specimen before, she didn't have a clue where to start and how to control herself. The death of her first victims would be almost inevitable.

As if mortals would miss one of their numbers. They were reproducing as plentiful as weasels.

But since she had remained adamant so far and wasn't likely to change her opinion anytime soon, the swordsman was an ideal solution. Honestly, no fledgeling of his should be that weak, refusing to feed on live humans. The only reason he hadn't forced her yet was that the Police Girl perhaps wasn't as weak if she had managed to resist her vampiric urges for almost 20 years now. In the end, he had grudgingly catered to her disgustingly human sentiments, but enough was enough.

The longer Alucard had thought about it, the more perfect his idea had seemed. Where it counted, the swordsman was human, had exquisite blood, and was impossible to kill by excessively being fed on. Well, not impossible, but the swordsman would revive before inducing terminal trauma in the Police Girl. An additional bonus was his control over his Quickening: Alucard was quite certain that the swordsman would painfully remind Draculina when she was taking too much. After all, the swordsman had never hesitated to do so with himself.

Then, about a month ago, he had gone ahead and realized his plan by locking both the swordsman and Draculina into a room, ensuring during the next few weeks that neither could escape. Even his master's objections merely had consisted of allowing the swordsman out during the day, when the Police Girl was asleep anyways. Of course, since walls and locks were no problem for him, he had easily kept watch over the two of them, amusing himself with their unintentionally comedic actions.

And now, he had come to check whether they were ready to be released – and conveniently annoy the swordsman at the same time.

The swordsman was still grinding his teeth and clutching the armrests of his chair until his knuckles were white. The Police Girl was sitting a few meters away, anxiously watching both of them. The swordsman's Quickening was sparkling delightfully angrily, for once not being reined in as tightly as usually. Alucard smirked at the electric tingling along his skin that was transmitted even without physical contact, estimating that this would be approximately five centuries of focused Quickening. So far, the swordsman had never let go of all his restraints, but this was a good step in the right direction. A few more jabs at sore spots and…

A pity that the Police Girl had to stifle Alucard's imminent success.

"Please, Ben, it's becoming too much for me …"

* * *

Methos blinked out of his anger and immediately curbed his Quickening upon seeing Seras' discomfort. In his anger, he had released more energy than he had intended to. It was a good weapon against overly curious vampires hiding in shadows, but he had forgotten that it would affect Seras much worse than the old one.

"Sorry, Seras. I didn't intend to hurt you. And, Alucard," he started growling again, "if you don't stop that infernal cackling immediately you won't like the consequences. I hate having undead vermin breathing down my neck!"

Sometimes, Methos felt as if he had become the vampire's personal entertainment. Rarely a day went by that Alucard didn't try to get the drop on him, taunt him about his human inferiority, or try to ferret out more of his secrets. He had become even more paranoid than when he knew he was being hunted by Immortals, more than once putting a blade into the vampire's shadowy tentacles when startled.

In the beginning, he had tried avoiding the vampire. However, it had become quite clear after the first few weeks that the vampire had no intention of leaving him alone in turn. Ever since entering his home territory, the bloody menace hadn't allowed him a single day of peace. Methos swore that he had become hypersensitive to the feeling of Dark Arts against his Quickening because bored vampires were insufferable. It seemed that the older they got, the more they looked at the world as a big game to entertain them.

Methos had had this phase when riding with Kronos, but Immortals were still human except for that whole lightening thing. Eventually, he had grown out of it. Vampires however were something entirely different, especially ones that could dissolve into shadows and hell-beasts at will. The older they became, the more removed they were from the world, viewing mortals as cattle and always on the look-out for something interesting.

And, to his chagrin, Methos had become that something.

Actually, he supposed that he should be proud of himself for keeping an old vampire entertained for more than five years, but he could easily do without that. Over the years, he had adopted a more light-hearted personality that was quicker to anger, came back with witty remarks, and didn't show any fear of the vampire. He had been very careful to erase any hint of his true age, sometimes displaying almost the same childishness as the vampire.

His calculations had paid off. Alucard's interest in him had never wavered, but it had never become lethal, either. He had gained Lady Integra's trust and could joke around with the soldiers. All in all, Hellsing had become a good, Immortal-free home for him.

Four years ago, when Immortals had finally been accepted as human citizens, he had briefly played with the idea of leaving Hellsing. MacLeod had returned from Tibet and become one of those insane people to publicly admit to their Immortality. Methos was sure that MacLeod wouldn't mind if he dropped by again and stole some of his beer out of the fridge.

However, MacLeod practically being an Immortal magnet had quickly discouraged Methos of that idea. MacLeod had become far too dangerous to live with, especially now that one merely had to look up his address on the internet. One single hunter taking notice of the tall, big-nosed stranger hanging around the Highlander would be enough to blow his cover. And he wasn't quite ready yet to open that sack of cats.

So he had stayed at Hellsing, where he was slowly turning as insane as their pet vampire. The last time he had accidentally run across an Immortal on one of his missions, Methos hadn't even thought of taking him seriously and merely laughed at the heroically shouted challenge 'There can only be one!'. Like with all the other ones, Alucard had quickly taken care of that problem. Not permanently, but lasting enough that the man would think twice before provoking Methos again.

But as much of an annoyance as Alucard had proven to be, his fledgling Seras Victoria had turned out to be even more of one.

She was polite to a default, meek, but absolutely stubborn. Generally, that wouldn't be bad. But almost a month ago, the old vampire had dragged her into Methos' room with the comment 'None of you will be able to leave here until she learns to feed properly from a human. Swordsman, your food will be brought here. Oh, and I will know if she doesn't feed directly from your veins.' Cackling somewhat madly, the vampire had phased through the wall, leaving him to stare at the hysteric fledgling, absolutely nonplussed at his situation.

Forced to spend an indeterminable amount of time in close confines with a reluctant blood-sucker and a mad Dark Arts master watching him.

Forced to teach an unwilling vampire how to suck his blood.

Forced to convince a stubborn fledgling that, no, it wasn't unethical for her to feed on humans as long as they stayed alive and, yes, as long as his body stayed in one piece, a little bit of death from bloodloss wouldn't kill him.

He was certain that his absolutely furious scream of 'Alucard!' had rivaled those of Lady Integra, if rumors were to be believed. Just a pity that Hellsing had such thick walls so that no sound had left his room.

It had taken him most of the day to calm down the hysteric woman, and even then she had stubbornly refused to give in. In the end, she had retreated onto his bed to sulk while he had snatched his armchair and immersed himself into a copy of Aristophanes' 'Clouds'. The following night had been very uncomfortable and Methos had sworn that, vampire or not, she could find somewhere else to sleep. In the end, that bloody menace had revealed that he had been watching and, after quite a bit of arguing, dropped off her coffin. That had made Methos' small quarters even more packed, and him even more short-tempered.

Fortunately, it had taken Sir Hellsing only a day to discover his dilemma, and she had commanded Alucard to let him out of the room for weapons practice and missions. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to make the vampire give up on the rest of his harebrained scheme and hadn't been able to discourage him from watching. At least Methos had been reasonably certain that the old one wouldn't allow his fledgling to do any permanent harm.

A week later, both Seras and Methos had developed a serious case of cabin fever, and the old vampire had proven that Methos' hesitant trust hadn't been completely misplaced. Since Victoria had refused to drink from him, she had gone hungry the entire time. After seven days of no nourishment – the butler had been forbidden to deliver her daily rations of medical blood – her bloodlust had gained the upper hand. When Methos had returned from a mission, she had attacked him without warning as soon as he had opened the door. In her haste to get to his veins, she had neatly slit his throat and snapped his neck.

Waking up again hadn't been pleasant because neck injuries always healed a lot slower than anywhere else, and a once again hysterical, heavily charred fledgling was keening in the highest tones of self-incrimination.

What had surprised him was that he had woken up at all, and that there was no bloody mess on him or the carpet. Only his sore throat and his lingering dizziness had reminded him of the blood loss. And, although the old vampire lounging in Methos' favorite armchair hadn't behaved any less manic than usually, there had been well-hidden relief on his face that Methos had recovered.

It had taken all his remaining strength to half-heartedly glare at the old one, which the vampire had answered with his trademark smirk and the comment 'Not bad. Next time, try not to fry her.' Methos' glare had gone up a few notches, and then he had lost consciousness again.

Ever since that day, Seras Victoria had become a little bit more approachable about drinking human blood. It had taken only a few reminders of her abominable behavior during her bloodlust, and she had reluctantly followed his suggestions.

Now, more than a month later, both of them had survived relatively uninjured, and they even were still on talking terms. She had finally become adept at feeding without killing, knew that it wasn't a good idea to polish her Halconnen for more hours than a day had, and had a working vocabulary of Latin swear words. Now, they were only waiting for the judgment of the so-called 'expert', namely Alucard. And, of course, the old vampire was enjoying every second of it.

Fortunately, entertaining her hadn't been as exhausting as entertaining the bloody menace. She liked watching TV, she liked listening to music, and she liked reading. She didn't cackle, she didn't pop out of shadows, and she apparently also didn't think that every life-form with a heartbeat was beneath her.

As long as one wasn't penned in with her for weeks, she was a nice, young woman, who was a reasonably quick study once she was properly motivated.

Besides the main objective of feeding, she had even learned to be a bit more daring and sarcastic. And if it weren't for the obnoxious vampire ghosting around behind him, he'd almost be happy for her. Of course, he'd be even happier if that manic leech finally allowed her to return to her own quarters. A man needed some privacy, after all!

* * *

Adopting his fully corporeal form, Alucard stepped out of the shadows and around the armchair. The swordsman looked adequately incensed, and the Police Girl suitably reverent.

"Master?", she asked uncommonly hesitantly.

He had hoped that such a long time of exposure to the swordsman would cure her of more than her refusal to feed, but apparently the changes he had witnessed during the past weeks had not become completely ingrained yet. She was still inordinately meek, not yet ready to take her place at the top of the food chain. But she had made a big step in the right direction.

He grinned maliciously, enjoying how the swordsman's frown increased in depth. "Show me what you have learned, Police Girl," Alucard purred.

To his amusement, the swordsman rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'Sure, I always enjoy having my blood sucked out, thank you very much for asking.'

When the Police Girl didn't move immediately, the swordsman huffed somewhat impatiently. "Well, here's your chance. If you ever want to leave my room again, you'll have to prove that you can do it. After all, it's not as if he hadn't been watching us all the time."

It went unsaid that the swordsman also wanted to be rid of her. Alucard could barely keep his chuckles in. Such marvelous interplay between the two. He had enjoyed himself immensely over the past few weeks, watching how they had acted out one great comedy.

He had always appreciated the swordsman's dry irony, but never as much as when he had coached the Police Girl's first attempts at feeding. Considering her next to nonexistent vampiric instincts, Alucard had wondered more than once whether they'd actually succeed before she went into another bloodlust. Her first tries had certainly taken long enough:

'_Is your blood supposed to flow that sluggishly?' _

'_Muscle flesh doesn't bleed enough to give you more than an appetizer.'_

'_But then how am I supposed to find the right veins?'_

'_Well, you could do it like last time and rip out a good chunk of flesh.'_

'_What!?! I'm not – I already said I'm sorry – '_

'_Yeah, yeah, get on with it, my neck is starting to hurt.'_

'_I'm not going to do that! Even if you heal rather nicely from loosing a good-sized chunk of flesh, no regular human will do so!'_

'_Then I suggest that you find a vein soon.'_

'_But – '_

'_Just bloody well do it!'_

'_Okay. You asked for it.'_

'… _you are aware of the fact that going for the carotid artery gives mortals even less of a survival chance than ripping out a chunk of muscle, are you?'_

Fortunately, the Police Girl had been intelligent enough to release the swordsman before he lost consciousness and, together with it, the hold on his Quickening. Apparently, literally being shocked out of a bloodlust left a lasting impression.

Alucard had meticulously kept watch during the five weeks, always ready to snatch up any hints the swordsman dropped concerning his past. And to ensure that the swordsman survived the experience, but that was circumstantial.

However, beyond the fact that it usually took him 25 minutes to recover from exsanguation, that he was a mediocre Latin teacher, and that recovering from death was painful every time, Alucard hadn't obtained any new information.

His secondary intentions for his little project though, they had worked out just fine. Over time, the swordsman had nicely done his task of inuring the Police Girl to death:

'_Congratulations! If I were mortal, you would have killed me for the 27__th__ time now.'_

'_Congratulations! If you were mortal, you would be my 27__th__ ghoul now!'_

'_What did I tell you about raising the dead?'_

' … _Congratulations! If you were mortal, I would have wasted my 27__th__ bullet now!'_

- and other mortal follies:

'_Sex.'_

'_WHAT!?!'_

'_You have a body that could jump-start even Methusaleh's engines. Please don't tell me you haven't noticed how men – and a few women – look at you'_

'_Well, yes, but – '_

'_No buts. Chances are that whoever you choose to feed from is going to be aroused. I bet that this makes blood a lot more addicting. Do you want to risk loosing control?'_

'… _no?'_

'_Then come here. Try going for my leg, that will teach you how to find new veins.'_

'_You already are…?'_

'_I'm Immortal, not a eunuch. Of course I have urges.'_

'_I – I've never … What about…'_

'_No, you don't have to do anything but feed. If you recall the mechanics of an erection, you will realize that bloodloss is counterproductive to one. What did they teach you in High School?'_

' …_definitely not that...'_

' … _Seras, what do you think you're doing?'_

'_Well, you told me to try your leg.'_

'_Do my trousers taste good?'_

'… _That's practice for finding veins in the dark.'_

'…'

'_Yes, yes, alright, I get it. Now where are those pesky little things … Hah, got one! … mhrmpf… mhmmmm… mhmmmmmmmmmm … mhmmmmkrch! Ouch! You burned me! I thought you could suppress your Quickening? Is a poor little vampire too much for your strong, masculine control?'_

'_Masculine control or not, I can only suppress it to a safe level when I'm conscious. What have I told you about taking too much?'_

'… _But it was so good…'_

With progressing days, the swordsman had become more and more caustic, spitting out his irony with acidic precision. And the Police Girl had kept up with him, equally fed up with being cooped up in one room for the past weeks.

Somehow, the swordsman had also managed to rub off some of his more sarcastic tendencies. Alucard had been listening to some very interesting conversations which had shown a whole new side of the Police Girl. When the two had proceeded to covering all traces via vampiric suggestions, she had given an inspired soliloquy:

' _**Benjamin Adams, you will never remember that you have been used, bitten, and almost exsanguated by a poor, virginal, deliriously hungry, ravishingly beautiful,…**__ oh, sorry, as of now, __**… **_**completely**_** exsanguated by a poor, virginal, deliriously hungry vampire because she forgot to heal you before swinging her hypnotic speeches!**__ And that would be ghoul number 38.'_

Give it a few hundred more years, and the Police Girl would make a fine No-Life Queen. Of course only if the swordsman didn't kill her first. Alucard smiled maliciously. The swordsman's frustration was almost tangible. Perhaps, if incensed enough, he would let some more information slip?

At the moment, the swordsman was looking quite harried, eager to be rid of both of them for the first time in more than a month, and the Police Girl still hesitated.

From what Alucard had already seen though, that hesitation was nothing more than some stunted form of stage fright. The swordsman had taught her very well, he had to admit, covering everything she needed concerning feeding from mortals. Somehow, the swordsman knew what a vampire required for survival, even beyond the standard bite-and-drink.

Grinning more viciously, Alucard watched how the swordsman was glaring at the Police Girl, his Quickening raging in a tightly controlled amount of space. If the swordsman hadn't been immortal already, Alucard would have been severely tempted to turn him. As it was, Alucard would have to content himself with ferreting out the swordsman's secrets some other way. After all, half the fun of secrets was the hunt for them, the anticipation and excitement when nearing the goal. And he had a feeling that he was closing in on a big one.

* * *

Methos was rapidly loosing his patience. After a whole bloody month of coming home to a reluctant vampire that he had to teach how to feed, and another one regularly sticking its head through his walls, he was finally at the end of his rope. He had died fourty times in almost as many days, making him more than grumpy because bloodloss was a bitch to recover from. He swore, if Seras didn't get her things together soon, he would…

Fortunately, he didn't have to think of anything he would do because Seras finally attached herself to his neck. He remembered just in time to direct his Quickening away from her. She had become proficient enough that her bite was almost painless, and her soft suckling noises threatened to send his blood southwards. Glaring at the original, red-coated source of his continued irritation, he ruthlessly crunched those urges because he refused to give the bloody menace any more satisfaction than he had already taken.

When Seras withdrew, he felt a little bit faint but nothing life-threatening, even for mortal standards. He growled at the smirking vampire. "See? She's feeding, and she has enough control not to kill anyone. Satisfied?"

The manic features contorted into a skull-like leer, Dark Arts flooding the room in a seductive bid for power. "Oh, I can see that she's had her fun. But what about me? Don't you want me to try feeding off your leg, too? That would be an excellent opportunity for me to show you that vampires have indeed superior stamina."

That was the last straw. His Quickening leapt to his skin to neutralize the negative energy, sending Seras scrambling away in a hurry. He had known that the vampire had been watching them the entire time, and he should have known that the vampire wouldn't hesitate throwing that into his face. But enough was enough.

Suddenly calm except for his Quickening, Methos got up from his armchair, reached for the sword in his coat, and fluidly drew his Ivanhoe. An almost effortless backhand later, Alucard's head neatly joined his feet on the floor. Briefly stopping at the exit, Methos addressed the grinning head, taking no heed of the not overly hysterical fledgling.

"I'm going to the shooting range. If I'm back and either one of you is still here, you will find out just what had been the inspiration behind some biblical stories!"

Even after slamming the door, the old one's insane cackling followed him through several hallways. Then it was blessedly quiet and realization struck. Bloody vampires! He hadn't meant to reveal that! At least his wording had been vague enough that he could explain away his slip of tongue. He hadn't said anything too incriminating. Still, the old one was probably going to latch on to that and be even more insufferable about it.

He groaned. If he got out of Hellsing's employment with his mind anywhere within a 500-mile-radius of sanity, it would be a miracle.

* * *

**A/N:**Well, this one's quite a bit more humorous than the first ones. I was getting tired of trying to force tension into the stories, and I'm not really satisfied with 'in a bar' and 'On a Plane'. This one at least brings out the insanity of Hellsing life… 


End file.
